Slim Runs Amok - Can't Go Home Again
by Saddletramp
Summary: This is an alternate ending to Slim Runs Amok. Story is exactly the same until Chapter 9. Slight changes in Chapters 9 and 10 but Chapter 11 really starts the alternate ending. Every man has a his breaking point – that moment when the world overwhelms him. What happens when the dependable and straight laced Slim Sherman runs off the rails?


SLIM RUNS AMOK - CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN

This is an alternate ending to Slim Runs Amok. Story is exactly the same until Chapter Nine. Slight changes in Chapters 9 and 10 but Chapter 11 really starts the alternate ending. Slim Sherman was described as 'straight as a rail with no bend on the edges'. But every man has a his breaking point – that moment when the world overwhelms him. What happens when the dependable and straight-laced Slim Sherman runs off the rails?

**CHAPTER ONE**

His own snoring awakened the blond-haired Slim Sherman. Lying face down on the pillow, his mouth felt thick and fuzzy, much like his foggy brain, and his arms were heavy as fence posts. Groaning, he turned over onto his back, wondering why his bed was so uncomfortable. It slowly dawned on him that his feet were protruding beyond the end of the bed and the creaking sound the bed made when he moved was unfamiliar.

Opening an eye, he frowned at how the light was so dim in the room he shared with his partner, Jess Harper. If it was daylight – even early daylight – he and Jess should have had the barn chores done by now. Where was Jess anyway? Certainly, Jess hadn't let him sleep in. Where were the familiar sounds of the stove being stoked, the smell of breakfast cooking? Coffee. He could smell coffee brewing. At least that part seemed right.

Slim started to sit up, only to grab his aching head and sink back down into the flattened pillow. Man that must have been some bender he'd tied on last night. He didn't remember drinking. Jess must have hauled him home afterwards. Maybe Jess was being quiet in deference to his hangover. Yes, that must be it. Good ole, Jess; he could depend upon Jess. He wondered again just where Jess was.

He turned his head to the side, immediately sorry for the small movement. A thousand Indian drums were beating in his head. Cautiously opening one eye again, he looked around before groaning deeply. Steel bars surrounded him. The dim light illuminating his cell came from a tiny window set high in the wall.

Still groaning, he attempted to sit up again, immediately regretting the decision, although this time he remained upright. Dang, he wasn't at home. He was in jail. He wondered what he had done to cause Mort to arrest him. His memory was a complete blank regarding the previous evening. He gingerly touched the sore spot at the back of his head, wincing at its tenderness. He wondered who had clobbered him. About then his foggy brain registered the various painful areas along his jaw as well as his sore knuckles. Obviously he'd been in a fight – one he didn't remember.

As his eyes focused, he took in the details of his surroundings. A strange coldness crept over him as he realized he was not in the Laramie jail. He'd worked with Mort enough times and spent a few regrettable nights as the Sheriff's guest, to know every inch of the jailhouse. Raking a hand through his hair, he wondered where he was – what town – and what he had done to cause his arrest.

**CHAPTER TWO**

He was still sitting on the edge of the cot, head in hands braced on his knees, when the Sheriff came through. The Sheriff did not attempt to move quietly, making determined footsteps, slamming the door open and jangling the keys loudly. He grinned knowingly when Slim merely canted his head, one eye open, yet he held out a cup of coffee for Slim to take.

"I'm Sheriff Wagner." He said introducing himself. "Figured you might need this."

Slim nodded his thanks while cautiously sipping the hot liquid.

"Your fine's $10.00 and restitution for the bar bust up is another $10.00. You got that much on you?"

Slim checked his shirt and vest pockets before leaning against the wall behind his bunk. Straightening out his long legs,he dug down into his pockets, bringing out a paltry $5.00. Shaking his head, he showed the Sheriff his cash.

"Sorry, son. Looks like you're going to have to work it off. Going rate is a dollar a day so that'll take you 15 days of work to get yourself out of here. Or, you can keep your $5.00 and do a full 20 days of work. It's up to you. Don't care one way or the other." He turned to go, before Slim called out after him.

"Where am I? What'd I do to land up in here?" He questioned.

The Sheriff laughed before answering. "Wow. You must have really tied one on. Son, you're in Santa Fe, New Mexico. And as to what you did, well, you were just dumb enough to take up with Marilita. Don't blame you none, she was all over you from the time you set foot into the bar – and she sure is good looking. She has this thing for blondes." He added. "Oh, Hell, what am I saying? She has a thing for any man who ain't her husband. Problem is, her husband came home and didn't care for you being in his bed. Gotta say, you held your own pretty good until someone clubbed you over the head – then it was lights out for you."

Slim stared at the Sheriff, a slight flush creeping up his neck. He was shocked hearing he had taken up with a married woman. Actually, he was shocked to discover he had taken up with a woman he had just met – at least he thought he had just met her. That wasn't his style – not at all. And, what the hell was he doing in Santa Fe?

"Can I send a telegram? My partner will wire me the money."

The Sheriff laughed again. "What do you think this is - a charity? All you got is that $5.00 and its going to pay for the damages. You got nothing and the town ain't spotting you any on the chance you can make good. No sir got burned on that once too often. If you ain't got no one in town, then you're on your own. Breakfast is at 8:00. Chain gang leaves at 8:30. You'll get fed lunch and when the work day is over, you'll be brought back here for the night. That'll be your routine for the next 15 days. We treat our prisoners right and when their time is up, they're let go. Mind your manners and you'll be out of here in no time. Once you're set free, since you're broke, you'll have to find a job or leave town – immediately. We don't cotton to no vagrants here."

CHAPTER THREE

The Sheriff's words echoed in his mind. Prisoner. Sure, he'd spent a night or two in jail, but prisoner sounded so – so final - long term - a sick label that painted him with the same paintbrush as a convicted criminal and a stink he couldn't wash off. The Sheriff had also said he'd be on a chain gang. The very words made Slim shiver. Not that he'd ever experienced being on one, but he had heard stories of how awful they were – how badly the prisoners were treated and how odious the work was. The Sheriff had seemed easygoing enough. Maybe he had lucked into a decent sort of punishment for his miscreant behavior. He still didn't remember the incident itself, finding it lost in the blur of a time and space his mind couldn't reach.

With no options available to him, Slim swallowed the lump in his throat as the metal shackle snapped shut around his ankle, joining him to the other five men in the work detail. Like the others, he picked up the length of chain between him and the next man. Head down, he followed the armed guard's instructions, awkwardly climbing into the wagon which would carry them to their assigned areas.

As the wagon pulled away from the jailhouse, Slim happened to catch some movement in the saloon across the street. With a jolt, he recognized the woman as Marilita, but it was all he could recall. She leaned languidly against one of the uprights. She was clad in chiffon nightgown and robe which barely kept her decent. The robe was open, revealing a deep plunging neckline exposing her well-endowed assets. A leg, bare from thigh to toe, had freed itself from the draped cloth. To the casual observer, she was filing her painted fingernails. In reality, her eyes were fixed upon the tall blond she hungered for. It was one time she was unhappy her husband had come home early. She liked this one and was sorry he had ended up on the sheriff's chain gang. But not sorry enough to pay his fine with the money she had liberated from his pockets the previous evening. Her husband joined her on the sidewalk. His hands roamed her body suggestively and possessively as he nuzzled her neck, heedless of it being broad daylight and in public view. When she saw Slim watching her, she gave him a smoldering, come hither look before responding wantonly to her husband. Her deep throated laugh mocked Slim as the wagon drew out of sight.

The sun was hot and the work hard, but they were treated reasonable as long as they did what they were told. One of the men had tried bucking the orders and been pistol whipped for his defiance. An exhausted Slim returned to his cell every night, often falling asleep before being served supper. His hands were rough, raw, and calloused, unused to working without gloves. He lost weight, trimming down his already trim body until his clothes were loose on him. However, he slept the sleep of the dead, his worries forgotten in the bliss of nighttime oblivion.

It was the daytime which caused him the most torment. As the days worn on, he kept trying to remember why he had left his ranch in Laramie and was two states away. It was another shock to his system to discover he had been gone from his beloved ranch for over a month. What in the world could have made him leave? More importantly, why hadn't he gone home? And the thought still dogged him – where was Jess? He was the one always going after Jess. Had he left to help Jess? Did Jess need him? Why wasn't he there for his missing partner? The answers wouldn't come to him, the gap in his memory sealed behind a wall he couldn't penetrate.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Nothing had sounded better to Slim Sherman than the jangle of keys turning in the cell door lock for the last time. He was free to go. But where could he go? He had no money. Alamo had been stabled at the county's expense and would have to be removed from the stable today. He hadn't looked in a mirror but was pretty sure he looked a sorry sight. Being that he couldn't stand his own stench, he knew he needed a bath in the worst way. He'd be glad to retrieve his things from the livery. The Sheriff hadn't allowed him a razor and he really wanted to get rid of the two-week's growth covering his face.

Mr. Myers, the livery owner took pity on the woebegone cowboy who appeared to claim the big chestnut horse. The horse nickered at his owner, anxious to feel a familiar hand petting him.

"That horse has been jumpier than a cat ever since being stabled here. Glad to see you claiming him. He sure calmed down fast when he saw you."

Slim stroked his horse's neck appreciatively. "Yeah." He said. "We've been through a lot together. Had him since he was a colt. Trained him myself. He's a good cow horse too."

"You looking for a job?" Myers asked.

Slim chuckled. "Kind of obvious isn't it? Either I get a job or leave town tonight – sheriff's orders."

Myers nodded. "Kinda figured that seeing as you've been his guest the last few days. You look like you can handle yourself around horses. How about you stick around and work for me at least until you get yourself a grubstake?"

"That sounds mighty good to me." Replied Slim. Details were hashed out and the men shook hands on the deal. Handing Slim a few coins, Myers sent him off to get cleaned up and a decent meal in his belly. The jail's food rations had been adequate, but weren't near enough for Slim's large frame and the work he was required to perform.

Slim languished in the hot water until it began to turn cold. Washed, shaved, clean clothes, and a good meal, made him feel like a new man. He only had a couple changes of clothes with him so he'd have to seek out the laundry. First, he'd have to earn some money so he could pay to have his clothes cleaned. He figured if nothing else, he'd go down to the local stream and wash them himself. He didn't relish the task but knew he had to do what he had to do.

Even as he worked, he longed to head home. However, without any money, he couldn't even wire Jess to let him know where he was. He continued to wonder whether he was supposed to be looking for Jess or if it was the other way around. Thinking about it only gave him a headache. He had no choice but to hang out in Santa Fe until he had enough money to stake himself for the journey home.

Mr. Myers made space for Slim to stay in the tack room. He brought in a cot, bedding, and towels for Slim, apologizing that the bed would be a few inches too short for Slims 6 ft 3-inch frame. Slim figured any bed not inside the jail was a great bed to have. He was thankful for the job, meals, and accommodations Mr. Myers provided.

Slim slept fitfully. Images kept popping into his dreams only to disappear before he could get a grasp on them. It was like trying to latch onto wisps of smoke. Tossing and turning, he couldn't get the picture of a burning barn out of his mind. Each night a different image presented itself until one night they gelled and he was able to put together the missing pieces of his memory.

He rolled onto his stomach, burying his head in his arms as he fought back the bitter despair he felt. Sadness overwhelmed him until he could hold it no more and the tears finally burst forth – tears he had held back for far too many years. Tears over the death of his parents, seeing Jonesy and Andy leave for St. Louis, the stress over being head of the household, knowing every decision he made affected more people than himself, Daisy's passing and Mike's leaving for school. Time had taken its toll on him and it now ripped open his soul, baring it to every loss and every mistake he'd ever made. Now he knew why he was so far from Laramie and why he could never go home again. There was nothing left there for him. The barn had burned to the ground, the out buildings damaged beyond repair and even parts of the house had suffered. The fire had been the last straw – the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

The day had started out bad to begin with. He had been worrying about paying the overdue mortgage. One of the stage horses had kicked him, leaving a nasty bruise. The pitchfork broke when he was using it. He dropped the wagon tongue on his foot. One of the mustangs broke out of the corral, taking the stage horses with him. It had taken Slim over an hour to catch them and bring them back for the stage run. The bracket holding the water barrel over the shower broke, causing it to fall and bust up part of the shower unit. A fox had gotten into the hen house and absconded with several of the birds. When he had angrily smacked the upright holding the porch roof, it slid out of place and part of the roof fell, slamming him against the house.

He'd opened the mail only to find the thirty-day notice from the bank. If he couldn't catch the mortgage up, he'd lose the ranch. Another envelope contained both a bill and notice from the General Store stating they'd be extending no more credit until payment was received. The same mail contained a second demand for payment for Mike's another letter informed him of a delay in the stage line's monthly payment.

He was thankful Andy had graduated and begun his career. He had sold Jess his half of the ranch, so this wouldn't affect him. However, he and Jess had promised Mike the same schooling , with his partnership, he had extended an unspoken promise for the ranch to be Jess' forever home. His responsibility weighed heavily on him. He was sure the cattle Jess was off selling wouldn't even touch half of the bills coming due, let alone all of them. Jess had agreed that selling a small portion of their breeding stock was worth trying in order to save the ranch. They were broke and it was his fault. He had made the decisions which were now costing them everything they owned.

He knew he couldn't pay the bills in the allotted time. If he paid the mortgage, Mike couldn't continue his schooling. If he paid Mike's schooling bill, he couldn't cover the mortgage – and they would lose the ranch. No matter what solution he tried to present, he just couldn't find the answer. It was then he had smelled smoke. Running outside, he saw every rancher's greatest fear realized – barely missing the ranch, a prairie fire swept across the lower meadow, rushed along by a strong wind. Horrified, he watched as glowing embers blew into the hayloft, setting the barn afire. He was alone and battled fiercely to save the building until the heat beat him back and he had to concede ; mentally, physically, and emotionally empty, he sunk to his knees in utter despair. It was gone. Everything his parents had entrusted to him and everything he had worked for his entire life was gone. He had failed everyone – Mike, Jess and even himself. He single handedly had destroyed all three of their frustration and anger overcame him and he let loose – swearing, ranting at the universe, throwing, or smashing anything he could latch onto, upsetting tables and chairs, finally destroying his and Jess' sleeping quarters.

His soul empty, he was a man in a trance as he packed a few belongings, mounted Alamo and rode away from his life. The further he rode, the less real the loss felt; the less real his entire life felt. His life had been a lie. He'd put everything into the ranch and yet it wasn't enough. He had nothing left. He tried not to think of his yesterdays and couldn't even contemplate any tomorrows. He didn't feel anything anymore. He rode with no intent or purpose other than to leave Laramie as far behind him as possible. He lived day to day, making do since he didn't have much money on him. He couldn't transfer money from the bank – there wasn't anything in the account. He'd pulled the last of it to send for Mike's tuition and refused to spend it for his own comfort. He stopped in one of the towns he passed and sent the payment for Mike's schooling.

Maybe by the time the tuition was due again, he'd have found a 'd make sure Mike was taken care of – that's the least he could do. But he could never go back. Whatever the answer might be, it no longer laid at the Sherman-Harper the first time since his parents had died,he had no responsibilities. He felt bad about leaving Jess in the lurch, but he also knew Jess could take care of himself.

A marginal poker player, Slim was able to win enough money to stable Alamo and occasionally buy a night in a hotel. With no responsibilities and no one to answer to, Slim ate and drank how and when he chose. Attracted by the blond cowboy's firm body and good looks, there was no shortage of ladies offering him nighttime comfort. Some mornings he couldn't remember where he was or in whose bed he had slept. He didn't care. He rarely stayed in one place more than one night anyways.

Thus, his drifting continued day after day until he had encountered Marilita. Oh, she was gorgeous. Her waist length black hair loosely tied at the nape of her neck, a sharp contrast to her white skin. Her peasant style blouse pushed off her shoulders, tantalizingly suggestive of what lay beneath the vibrant cloth molded to her body. She had soft, inviting lips that begged to be kissed and eyes a man could get lost in. Marilita could make any man's blood run hot. She knew it and took advantage of it, garnering gifts, jewelry, and money. She only allowed the 'special ones' to accompany her upstairs. The locals knew better. They knew she was married to a very jealous man – one who had no qualms about killing anyone who did more than look at Marilita. Nevertheless, the town was a growing community, which attracted many new people day in and day out. Marilita delighted in selecting her next companion from the throngs of newcomers. She didn't worry about her husband; he liked the money and gifts she brought home. He even encouraged her flirtations, which stripped a man of his senses so that he showered her with everything he owned, including his last dime, while receiving nothing in return. However, sometimes one came along whom Marilita could not resist and had to have. She always made sure her husband was out of town when she indulged in her desires. Then again, he sometimes came home sooner than expected. When that happened, well, it was just too bad for the one who had accepted her invitation to go upstairs.

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Slim swiped a hand across his eyes, wiping them dry. He tried to calm his breathing as he stared into the empty nighttime darkness. So that was it – the reason he'd left Laramie behind him – and the reason he couldn't go back. Oh – and Marilita – she had been worth the head cracking he'd suffered, along with the time on the chain gang. He'd have to move on, knowing that if he stayed, she'd tempt him with her charms knowing she was married and a schemer, she enchanted him. She might even be worth tempting fate again.

Idly, he wondered whether Jess would try to track him. He'd left a good two or three days before Jess' expected return. He hadn't left any trail except maybe when he had mailed Mike's tuition payment. However, he also knew how tenacious Jess was when he set his mind to it. If Jess wanted to find him, he would. He knew Mort would help Jess by sending out wires to surrounding towns. He hoped those telegrams hadn't reached this far away. He consoled himself with the knowledge Jess carried money from the cattle sale. He would be well funded for setting out on his new life.

**CHAPTER SIX**

There wasn't much left from his first payday, but Slim was pleased. The job at the livery was going fine, he'd paid Mr. Myers back, and still had money left to buy himself a drink. He purposely avoided the saloon where Marilita worked. He wasn't sure he could resist her charms.

While drinking his beer, he studied the bar patrons. They were a mixed group, mostly drifters. Working at the stable, he had heard of the Circle M, owned by Matt Marlin about 10 miles outside of town. He was hoping to run into one of their men to see if they were hiring. He wanted to spend his days on horseback, not pitching hay or cleaning stalls. He missed the open spaces and cattle. He laughed to himself. He had always teased Jess about the Big Open. Now he understood. Once you'd experienced it, it got a hold of a body; calling to it. Being hemmed in by city streets and buildings just didn't compare. No, Slim wanted to breathe the open air again and was determined to get signed on at the Marlin place.

He casually eyed the man who had just entered the bar. He was a tall man, as tall as Slim, and carried himself with an air of authority. Aha, thought Slim, this is Theo Douglas; foreman for the Circle M. Slim let Theo tuck into his drink before approaching and introducing himself. Instead of shaking Slim's hand, Theo callously looked him up and down as if scrutinizing breeding stock. It made Slim uncomfortable.

"You got experience?" Theo finally asked, breaking off his scrutiny and taking another sip of his drink.

"Yes, sir. Used to own my own spread."

"Used to?"

"Ya, fire put me out of business so I moved on. I can drive a four up, fix fence, herd cattle and been on my share of cattle drives."

"Can you run a chuck wagon?"

"Not a lick. Your drovers would quit the first night out if they had to eat my cooking."

Theo laughed at that, slapping Slim on the back and pouring him a drink. "I like an honest man. Don't need a cook. Just wanted to see what you'd say. Don't trust a man that can do everything. Pay's $30/month and found – includes your horse but you can also ride anything in the remuda if you've got the notion. When can you start?"

"I need to set things right with Mr. Myers but I'll be able to start come Monday."

Theo nodded his agreement. "Good enough." He said. "I'll see you at first light, ready to ride."

"Yes, sir." Slim answered, pleased he had acquired the job he sought. As he finished his drink, he couldn't help wondering how he was going to fare taking orders from someone else. He'd been his own boss, owner of the ranch since his early twenties. Then again, he'd been in the army and taken orders without thinking twice about it – so figured he'd make out just fine.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

When Theo stepped outside the ranch bunkhouse on Monday morning, he was pleased to see his new hand leaning against the building, ready to work. He showed Slim inside, having him select a bunk and storing his gear. They spent the rest of the day wrangling cattle. Slim was dirty and tired when they called it quits for the day. He was looking forward to his evening meal and stretching out for the night. He knew he'd sleep well after the grueling day he'd put in. Sleep was the only time he could forget about leaving his ranch back in Laramie.

Slim took his place in line with the other cowhands. Just after he received his plate of food, the wrangler behind him jostled him, causing him to drop his plate. The wrangler snickered as he walked away. Retrieving his plate, Slim tossed it into the dirty dish bin and got himself a new one. He was just about to receive his new plate of food when he was bumped from behind again. Slim was ready and retaliated instantly, decking the cowhand before he realized what was happening. Slim calmly retrieved his plate for a second time and waited patiently for the cook to fill it. He then proceeded to the table, his body language and looks letting everyone know he'd tolerate no more of being hassled. Except for Lem Stevens, the cowhand he had decked, everyone gave him a wide berth after that. The new guy could handle himself and had earned their grudging respect.

Slim had a hard time getting used to sleeping in the bunkhouse with the twenty other cowhands. He was used to Jess' snoring and the familiar sounds of the house and the ranch itself. Here, there were new sounds and a lot of different snoring in various decibels. He had a top bunk from which his feet extended and he just couldn't seem to get comfortable.

Mornings found a semi-grumpy Slim joining the rest of the crew for breakfast. No one messed with him or his gear, although he could feel several pairs of eyes watching him. He held his own through the work of roping and branding calves.

Days flowed one into another and before he knew it, he had been at the Circle M a month. He'd made friends with some of the hands, although he felt it was just surface friendship. They'd watch each other's backs during work, but none were any he would ride the trail with. There was a gnawing in his gut telling him not to trust any of them too far. Sadly, he remembered how he could, and had, trusted Jess with his life more than once. He wondered where Jess was, what he was doing. Had he moved on? Had he found another job? Slim hoped, after all their years together, Jess had not gone back to selling his gun. If he had, Slim knew it was his fault for creating the circumstances forcing his friend back into that lifestyle.

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Slim sat at the poker table with the other Circle M cowboys. He kept looking over to the corner of the saloon. A man sat there, his back to him, wearing a black vest and hat, unruly dark hair visible beneath the brim. With a start, Slim thought it was Jess. Then he realized it couldn't be – Jess would never sit with his back to the center of the room. His days on the run had instilled a self-preservation mentality in his former partner – meaning he always sat facing the room. There was no way this man was Jess, but it still gave him pause. Jess just might be around – especially as there were rumors of a range war brewing. Lance McDougal had moved into the area and had made it known he was set on taking over the Marlin rangelands.

Unable to concentrate on the game, Slim folded his hand, content to sip his beer while watching the others play. As he looked around, he began to realize the bar was full of cowboys he didn't recognize. He'd come to know most of the other hired hands on the various ranches. These men were new – at least to him. They were different than the average range hand. They were a rougher looking bunch. They moved with an arrogant authority, confident they could out shoot, out ride and out fight anyone who got in their way – and the way they wore their guns told Slim they were most likely hired guns. Slim knew he was good with a gun, but he had never even come close to matching Jess' speed on the draw. He figured it would be the same with these men if it ever came down to a gunfight. Perhaps that is why everyone gave the men a wide berth, which only added to their arrogance.

**CHAPTER NINE**

Slim started noticing oddities when he was out on the range. Head counts weren't matching up to the tally sheets. More days passed and Slim witnessed more things going wrong. There were times when Marlin's men weren't where they were supposed to be. Sometimes he thought he saw McDougal's men riding the Marlin range. Occasionally, just on the horizon, he'd swear he saw a rider sitting a small bay; just sitting there, watching him. Before he'd get a chance to check it out, the rider would be gone. It was eerie how the rider moved like a ghost, always making him second-guess whether he'd actually seen anything or not.

Tension was rising as Marlin's men began reporting the things they saw or felt while out doing their chores. All were reporting missing cattle – a few here and a few there. Enough to notice but not enough missing to think cattle rustling was going on. Yet, it seemed to become an everyday occurrence. They were all getting jumpy – reporting feeling like they were being watched yet most saw no one, although a few reported seeing a man on a bay horse watching them from a distance. No one could identify him more than that. He never seemed to get close enough for them to be able to recognize him if they ever met in person.

Marlin's men began finding dead stock. Water holes were poisoned. Riders were shot at, but none were hit; apparently, the intent was to make them nervous. Riders now rode in shifts, covering the ranch 24 hours a day; their sole job to protect Marlin's cattle and land holdings.

Men would go missing, only to be found later, severely beaten and left out on the range. Theo ordered all riders to ride in pairs. The war was heating up and yet they had nothing to go on and no one to blame for the things happening.

**CHAPTER TEN**

It had been another long and hot day. Slim was agitated at having found more cattle missing and Alamo continually acting up for no apparent reason. Theo had been Slim's riding partner that day. Theo had moved on down the fence line, leaving Slim to fix the break in the fence they were inspecting.

Slim stepped down to fix the section of downed fence. Alamo's head shot up, ears pricked and nickered at an approaching horse. Slim looked up to be staring down the barrel of Jess' revolver as he sat, arms crossed over the saddle horn, but the barrel never wavering from Slim's chest. Slim couldn't help noticing it was Jess' gunslinger weapon – the one from the hidden compartment in the fireplace.

"Jess!" Slim acknowledged his former partner.

"Sherman." Jess acknowledged, his features hardened, his voice icy. "Toss your gun away. We got some talkin' to do and I don't relish you trying to be a hero for your boss." Slim reluctantly did as ordered.

"What are you doing here?"

"Workin' – same as you." There was no mirth in Jess' voice. His features never softened nor was there any warmth in his voice. "Real nice reception I got when I got home." He said bitterly, emphasizing the word "home". "Place a shambles and abandoned, bank accounts empty – and you just disappearing without a word to anyone." Jess sat up, his gun still never wavering as he thumbed back the hammer. If it were possible, his voice was even colder with a hard edge to it as he spat out. "And what about the boy? Did you even think of him? Or did you abandon him like you did me and the ranch?"

Slim hung his head. "I used the last of our money to send his tuition. He'll be taken care of for the next few months. By then I'll have worked something out." He looked up at Jess. "I couldn't walk away from him - no matter how bad things were. No, Jess, I'll still take care of him."

There was a tone in Jess' voice which Slim had never heard before. It was raw emotion mixed with anger and something more; something Slim didn't immediately identify. "How? Keep him at school the rest of his life? He's got no home, Slim. We promised that boy a forever home and now he's got nowhere to go back to. He's lost his home and his family for a second time. How ya gonna fix that?"

"He'll come here, be with me."

"Like Hell, he will. I'm taking him. I'll take care of him; give him a new home. He ain't never gonna feel what it's like to have nowhere to go; nowhere to call home." Jess eased the hammer closed and holstered his gun. Turning Traveler as he prepared to ride off, he looked back down at Slim. "You abandoned him so you got no rights. I came here to make you pay, Slim. Not today, not tomorrow, and maybe not the next day - but one day I will. You're gonna pay for what you did to me and that boy." Before Slim could answer, Jess put spurs to Traveler and galloped off across the meadow.

If Slim thought he'd felt empty before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. His best friend had just sworn to get even with him. Slim knew the lengths Jess would go to in order to right a wrong. He didn't relish being on the receiving end of Harper's anger. However, the threat paled in comparison to Jess' taking Mike away. His heart was already broken, but this was a knife eviscerating him. He was still staring after Jess when Theo rode up.

"You know him?" Theo asked.

"Ya, I know him, used to be my partner. Like I said, we got burned out and moved on." Slim stored his fencing tools in his saddlebag before mounting Alamo.

"How'd you ever get mixed up with his sort?" asked Theo dubiously. "Kind like that don't settle down none; always on the move looking for the next fight."

"He didn't always. There were a few years when he was a good man, even deputized for the local law. Actually was building a good reputation and putting his gun fighting career behind him."

"You'd do well to stay away from him. He's McDougal's newest hired gun."

Slim was shocked. "McDougal? The one trying to force Marlin out?"

"That's the one. We're down over a hundred head. His damn brand fits right over ours. Changes the Circle M to a Circle Mc. Can't prove a thing unless we catch them red-handed." Theo stared at the spot where Jess was just disappearing over the horizon. Pointing in Jess' direction, he said. "I mean it Slim. He's a bad one - and mean to boot. His reputation has preceded him and even McDougal's own men give him a wide berth. Whatever he might have been to you – he ain't no more. Steer clear of him and don't let on you know him. Marlin will think you are a spy for McDougal and McDougal's men know you ride for Marlin. You'll be in a tough spot if you're ever cornered or this ever gets out." Slim could only nod sadly. Theo was right – whatever had been between them was gone. Jess had gone back to his dark side.

Slim was paired with Lem the next time he was out on the range. Their job was to move the cattle closer to the homestead. Marlin didn't want his riders riding where it would be easy to jump them. There was too much cover where McDougal's men could ambush the Marlin men. Marlin knew a fight was imminent, but he didn't want his men put in unnecessary danger.

Slim and Lem were moving the cattle along nicely when a couple head decided to quit the herd and go their own way. Seeing that Lem had his hands full keeping the herd moving, Slim shouted he was going after the strays. Lem acknowledged him and reminded him to be careful. Slim followed the cows into the brush, watching for both the cattle and would be attackers. He found the troublesome critters and was headed back with them when he was knocked from his horse. Two men were on him before he could recover. They held him upright with his arms twisted behind his back. Although he struggled, they held him firm. A horse and rider approached. Slim's eyes widened in shock and surprise.

Jess grinned evilly, as he stepped down. "We meet again, Sherman. This one's mine" he said to the men. "I got a score to settle with him. It'd give me great pleasure to mess up those pretty boy looks." As he approached Slim, he pulled his gloves tighter on his hands, flexing his fingers and slapping one fist into his other hand. He watched as an emotionless Jess stopped in front of him. He didn't even see the first blow which struck his chin, snapping his head back. More blows followed it immediately. Jess' powerful fists battered his face, ribs, and abdomen. Unable to defend himself, he slowly succumbed to semi-consciousness. They let him slide to the ground where he lay unmoving. One of the men started to deliver a kick to Slim's stomach but was stopped by an authoritative Jess. "He's had enough. We were just to send a message, not kill him. He won't be moving for a while." Jess nudged Slim with his boot. "I owed you that, Sherman. It's just the beginning of what you'll pay for what you done. Take a message to your boss. Tell him this range belongs to McDougal and he intends to keep it that way." Jess wiped the sweat from his forehead before returning to his horse and mounting. Nodding to each other, the McDougal riders split up and rode their separate ways.

Slim lay where he had fallen until he couldn't hear the horses anymore. He carefully took assessment of his condition, trying to understand what had just happened. He was going to carry some serious bruises but was essentially unhurt. He knew Jess could strike with the force of a sledgehammer. Jess' blows might have looked fierce, but he had pulled his punches, protecting Slim from any serious damage – just as he had prevented them from kicking him. What was Jess up to? Jess had said he owed him. Did he owe him the pulled punches in deference to the friendship they once had?Or, did he owe Slim the beating because he had abandoned the ranch? Maybe Jess was just toying with him – playing cat and mouse to keep him off his game.

Slim slowly climbed to his feet, using a tree for support. He hurt all over but was thankful Jess hadn't hit him full force. The bruises would be painful enough. Jess could have easily broken one or more ribs, but he had pulled his punches, ensuring Slim was only minimally injured.

By the time Slim arrived back at the herd, he was hunched over Alamo's neck. Lem abandoned the cattle, escorting Slim back to the bunkhouse. Some of the cowhands helped him down and into the building. Theo was at his side, doctoring his bruises, angry over Slim's beating. He didn't know how much longer before the range war busted wide open.

It wasn't long before the Marlin and McDougal men started shooting at each other – shooting to kill. McDougal's men were plainly visible on Marlin land as they moved hundreds of head onto the range they claimed. For every Marlin man, there were two McDougal men. As Slim had observed at the bar, McDougal's men were gun hands – paid to do whatever it took to seize the land he desired. They were ruthless in everything they did - from tearing out fences, guarding water holes and relentlessly driving more and more cattle into the valley.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Nights were when the cattle went missing, yet no one seemed to catch McDougal's men in the act. No one had ever seen or found the remains of a branding fire. There was nothing linking McDougal's men to the Marlin ranch problems. Slim had drawn night watch again. He wasn't happy about that but neither were the other men who had taken their turn.

Night watch was the most dangerous. Although McDougal's men weren't shy about their daylight marauding, the night watch was the most dangerous for the men of Marlin's ranch. McDougal's men knew their craft. They knew when and how to strike without being seen. That's when the riders had gone missing, beaten and left to be found the next day. That's why it puzzled him that Jess had attacked him during the daylight – knowing he'd be recognized – leaving himself open to potential assault charges. Slim hadn't seen the faces of the other two men who held him while Jess beat him. Maybe he banked on Slim not pressing charges, unwilling to potentially expose their past history to either side of the range war. Or maybe he played on Slim's sense of guilt over the ranch debacle.

There were six riders guarding the cattle that night. They rode spread out, but within sight of each other as they circled the hundred head of cattle bedded down in Shadow Valley. Slim didn't care for the area. There were far too many places where McDougal's men could jump them – especially since there was no moon. In spite of being tired, all of the riders were on high alert, easily staying awake.

Slim felt the hairs rise at the back of his neck. He didn't know if he was over anxious or whether there was real danger to watch for. Something didn't feel right. He could still see some of the other riders semi-outlined in the darkness – so that didn't seem to be the problem. He could see something moving, a dark image he shouldn't be seeing. He was positive it was someone cutting a few cows and calves from the herd, quietly spiriting them away. He eased his horse towards the departing animals, following as their trail led further and further away from the bedded down herd. As he'd left, he'd tried to signal the other Marlin riders but suddenly found he couldn't see any of them. An ugly thought began to form – were the Marlin riders working both sides of the range war?

He continued to follow the stolen cattle until they were several miles from the Marlin herd and well onto McDougal land. It was then he could see a campfire in the distance. Its flickering flames were a stark contrast against the black night. He dismounted a safe distance away, proceeding on foot to get a look at the McDougal set up. He'd found what no one else at the ranch had been able to find – McDougal's branding site.

It was a sheltered area, surrounded by rock outcroppings and hidden behind a stand of trees. If it hadn't been for the dark night and the campfire's contrasting light, no one would have ever found it. It was a perfect place for McDougal's illicit activities. Slim eased as close to the center as he could, intent on seeing who all was involved.

He wasn't surprised to see several of the Marlin men sitting around the campfire. It saddened him to see Jess lounging against one of the protective rocks, clearly a part of the deception. Although he appeared to be at ease, Slim knew Jess was a coiled spring, poised to leap into action if necessary. Slim watched as a big man walked into the center of the circle. This was McDougal – the would-be cattle baron. Everyone leaped to do the man's bidding – except Jess. Jess merely eyed his boss with a mixture of respect and contempt, which the man seemed to accept. When Jess responded to McDougal's questions, his voice was cold and without emotion.

Slim found it unsettling to see this side of Jess. He'd always known Jess had been a gunfighter – hiring his gun out to the highest bidder. This Jess was cold, certain – and ruthless. It was McDougal who spelled out his strategy for taking over the Marlin range. He was planning on a daylight raid, intent on wiping out everyone who rode for Marlin or lived at the ranch. Slim couldn't believe he was hearing what amounted to cold-blooded killing – the extermination of a family and its ranch hands.

He slid from his hiding place, determined to reach the ranch and warn them. His foot dislodged some rocks, alerting the camp of his presence. Abandoning any attempt at silence, he ran towards where he had left Alamo tied. McDougal's men were on him almost immediately. Struggling against the men holding him, he was unceremoniously shoved into the inner circle of the camp. He fell, landing close to the fire, feeling its heat before he rolled away.

Before he could recover, they were on him again, leaving him bound and gagged, staring up into the granite face and cold blue eyes of his one-time friend and partner.

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Slim felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he heard McDougal debating whether to kill him now or later. He didn't recognize the clearly bloodthirsty Jess who momentarily hovered over him, before yielding his space to McDougal. Slim knew he was about to die and there would be no assistance from Jess who now stood at McDougal's side, hand caressing the polished handle of his sidearm, impatiently waiting for McDougal to issue the kill order.

Even while studying the restrained Slim, McDougal checked his pocket watch before sighing. "It's late," he stated. "We need to get back to the ranch and get the rest of the men." He turned to Jess. "Kill him. Put him on his horse and send him back to Marlin. It'll help distract them when we attack." He motioned for the rest of the men in camp to follow him as he departed. Turning back to Jess, he said. "Meet us at Sandy Creek – we'll leave from there at four o'clock. "

Jess lifted his hand in a half salute. "It'll be my pleasure. Sherman owes me. I done promised to make him pay for what he done to me back home."

McDougal nodded his acknowledgement before mounting his horse and leading the rest of the men away. Jess waited until they had left before turning back to Slim. He seemed resigned, rather than angry when he pulled his gun from its holster. With his head cocked to the side, he looked at a now wide-eyed Slim. Slim struggled against his ropes, tried to speak through his gag, unable to believe he would meet his death at the hands of his one-time best friend.

"Lie still Slim, it'll be over soon – for both of us."

Slim's body jerked as three shots rang out in rapid succession. Heart racing, wild-eyed but unhurt, Slim stared at Jess as he fought to draw air into his lungs, the gag hampering his breathing and his curses at having ten years of his life scared out of him. Jess had put the three shots harmlessly into the ground beside him. Jess knelt beside him now, talking low.

"You're about to get the worst ride of your life, but I can't chance them knowing I didn't kill you. You're mine. You'll pay when and where I choose – and it won't be because McDougal ordered me to." He'd hissed while untying only Slim's feet and hauling him upright. He walked Slim over to Alamo, ignoring Slim's struggles and attempts to talk, only giving him a cursory "Shut up, Slim."

Standing together beside Alamo, a confused Slim was unprepared for Jess' lightning strike. Jess' punch put Slim out instantly, his body sagging as Jess caught him. Jess struggled under Slim's greater height and weight, but got him across Alamo's saddle, lashing his securely. Riding Traveler and leading Alamo, Jess headed towards the Marlin ranch. The ride was rough, as he had to travel swiftly; grateful Slim was still out of it and didn't feel anything. He needed to follow McDougal's orders – delivering Slim's body to the Marlin ranch - before meeting up at Sandy Creek. He knew McDougal didn't totally trust him. If he didn't make it back to the meeting place on time, there would be consequences – consequences he wasn't prepared to be responsible for.

Just before Jess reached the Marlin home, he turned loose of Alamo. With a slap on the rear, some yelling and shooting, he sent the horse galloping towards the bunkhouse. Lights came on and men rushed outside. In the melee that followed, the frightened Alamo slid and spun, leaping away from the hands trying to catch him and relieve him of the rider slung across his saddle. They were finally able to corner him in the corral, where he shook with fright as they removed the still unconscious Slim from his back. Jess had spurred Traveler into a full out gallop as the lights came on, easily outdistancing the gunshots thrown his way. When no one followed on horseback, he reined in. From a hidden position, he could see the cowhands carrying Slim inside. He then turned to make his rendezvous with McDougal.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Slim had awakened back in his bunk at the Marlin ranch with no knowledge of how he'd gotten there. The last thing he remembered was Jess saying he was in for the worst ride of his life. Based upon how sore his entire body was, he had no doubt Jess' words had been true – he just didn't remember the trip. It was then he recalled everything he'd heard at the campfire and sounded the alarm about the impending attack. Still aching, he forced himself to his feet. He intended to ride out with his bunk mates when the Marlin men confronted the McDougal men. He fought back the thought he may have to kill Jess – or that Jess would kill him. He couldn't understand why Jess hadn't killed him at the campfire. Things just weren't adding up.

Riding towards the showdown with McDougal's men, Slim had had a flashback to his Civil War days. There was an eerie quiet as the throng of men rode towards their enemy; the only sounds were the hooves striking ground, creaking leather, and the occasional jangle of spurs. They rode as one, the ground shaking beneath their horse's hooves.

They rode along in the early morning mist, their breaths, and their horse's breaths sending small clouds into the air. Their tension mounted as they moved from a ground covering trot to a canter and finally into a full gallop. Likewise, they couldn't see, but could hear the sound of horses galloping towards them; felt the earth shake beneath their enemy's horses before they met in combat.

Suddenly the mist parted and they were face to face with each other. Slim had no idea who fired the first shot, but one shot was all it took. In the next instant, the shooting began in earnest. It didn't stop until the meadow lie covered in fallen men and rider less horses; the smell of gun smoke burned his nostrils even as it formed a cloud over the battlefield. Not that he had been engaged in much of the battle. He was charging in to do his duty as he saw it, only to have someone plow into Alamo, knocking them both to the ground. Alamo recovered his feet and ran off, leaving him lying stunned on the ground. He was only down for a few minutes, but it was enough for the battle to be over. As he gained his feet, he saw men he didn't recognize surrounding what was left of both the Marlin and McDougal men. They were headed back into town. Even as he tried to figure out what was happening, he heard two horses coming up behind him. Spinning around, he was prepared to defend himself, only to see Jess riding Traveler, leading Alamo. Barely stopping, Jess tossed the reins to Slim, shouting for him to get free by riding north while he, himself, followed after the retreating riders. Confused even further, Slim only hesitated a moment before deciding to trust him, leaping into his saddle and riding away from the carnage.

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Slim had started to ride away from the Marlin Ranch, wanting to leave the horrible memory behind him. But now he sat on his horse waiting, with mixed feelings, as his former partner caught up to him. He knew it was useless to evade Jess. If Jess still wanted to kill him - at least that's what he thought the payback would be – he would. Slim knew he could never evade Jess' tracking skill – nor his wrath, so he waited. When Jess drew Traveler and the pack horse to a halt, they sat on their horses, looking at each other in awkward silence. Below them was the quiet aftermath of the McDougal-Marlin range war. The valley was peaceful now that the war had ended. Slim was the first to speak.

"What now? Where do we go from here?" was all he could say. He was still lost himself. For once he had no comfort to offer, no direction, and no care to where he went.

"We still got some talkin' to do – especially about the boy."

Slim nodded. It was no less than he had expected. "Can I ask? How did you get involved in all of this?"

Jess stared silently ahead of him, unwilling or unable to divulge how he had come to be here in Santa Fe, New Mexico – in the middle of the McDougal and Marlin range war.

"Might as well ride while we talk. I got a job waiting for me up north – so I'm headed north."

North. Laramie lay to the North. Slim didn't want to head back to Laramie. Didn't want to face what lay there. But riding north was as good of a direction as any other. Riding along with Jess didn't mean he had to go to Laramie. Jess hadn't said that was his destination; only that he was headed north. No, they would settle their differences and then part ways.

There was something different about Jess now, something he couldn't put his finger on. Although, Slim idly wondered if he was the one who had changed. He'd been the one acting contrary to everything he'd ever been taught. He'd never walked away from his responsibilities – but this time he not only walked away – he ran. And, when he remembered the truth of his flight from his roots, he had chosen to stay at the Marlin ranch. Then again, there was nothing to go back to. Neither Jess nor he had a home anymore.

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Slim glanced over at his dark-haired partner. He still thought of Jess as his partner. There was definitely something different about Jess – a sadness of some sort. Maybe he was regretting his part in the range war – or maybe regretting it was over. It had been violent and Jess had been deeply involved. He'd gone back to his violent – pre-Sherman-Harper Ranch – gunslinger ways. He still wore his special weapon – the one which had lain hidden in the fireplace mantel for so many years. Yet he waited. There was a story here and he wanted to hear it.

Jess began slowly, almost hesitant to even address the past. His voice carried the hurt he felt, the loneliness and the betrayal that Slim had dealt him.

"I can't tell you what it was like to crest that hill leading down to the ranch and see it all gone. It was as if I was fifteen again, losing everything – what a kick in the gut. It was gone – everything – just gone or in ruins. Then, there was no word about you – whether you were okay or what. Alamo was gone so I figured you'd just taken off, headed for the hills. I tried trackin' ya but the signs were too old. Mort even tried sending out feelers to see if anyone had seen you – but no one had. It weren't no fun facing up to ole Mr. Stevens at the bank neither. Dad gummed accounts were empty and boy did he have a lot to say about that. Yes sir – don't care to go through that ever again." He fell silent for a while.

Slim wanted to ask a million questions, but held his tongue. You didn't rush Jess – especially when he was revealing anything which affected him deeply. Obviously, the range war had affected him in more ways than one.

"I'm sorry, Slim – sorry I had to hurt you." Jess wouldn't look at him, always looking off into the horizon. Slim felt like Jess couldn't stand the sight of him. "Whatever was wrong between us was between us and didn't belong in the middle of the range war." He sighed, a deep cleansing sigh. "I came looking for you all right – make no mistake about that. I was set on straightening things out between us – especially where Mike was concerned. That was the worst of it, Slim. You betrayed _his_ trust. Me – well I can take care of myself – but you took that boy's home away from him. I know what that's like – to have no home – see it taken away from you. It's a feeling you don't never get over.

"I'd tracked you to Santa Fe. Since you weren't trying to hide your trail, you were pretty easy to follow. Seems you left a string of broken hearts behind you. Just mentioning I was looking for you and the ladies had plenty to say. I can't believe you fell for Marilita's wiles. My gosh, Slim, you really need to get out more. Not sayin' you ain't charming to the fairer sex, but she's a vampire. She'll suck your soul outta ya while stealing your money – and you'll wish you had more to give her." Jess paused to shake his head in dismay before getting back to the subject at hand. "Finding you working for Marlin wasn't much of a surprise. Was just sorry it was on the opposite side from mine. That's why I approached you when you were alone. There were things to be said - and said between us without anyone else overhearing."

"I sure wish it hadn't been you that chased them stray cows that day. Put me in a bad spot. I was working for McDougal and you were a Marlin man. McDougal's men woulda killed you if I hadn't been there. They'd gotten just a little too fond of beating Marlin's men. The range war was heating up and they had no qualms about their actions. They was set on making an example of you – a dead one- even though McDougal hadn't ordered it."

The tone of Jess' voice scared Slim. It was deep with regret and mixed with anger. "You were mine to deal with, Slim. Mine to avenge what you did to Mike and me. I didn't want McDougal's men to cheat me out of what was my right. So, I did the only thing I could. I chose to be the one to beat you. But God help me, I didn't want to do it. Not then. Not there. Like I said, it was between me and you."

Jess stopped to watch the cattle from both the McDougal and Marlin herds graze in serenity. The cattle didn't care that both moguls were dead. They only cared for the lush grass upon which they grazed.

"You planning on killing me?" Slim asked.

Jess glanced back at him before returning his gaze to the cattle. He moved on, forcing Slim to catch up to him.

"No. There's been enough killing – but ya still gotta pay for what ya done. You owe me – me and the boy. If I'd a wanted ya dead, I'd have done it that night at the branding fire. You owed me - not them."

He realized Jess had stopped talking and was holding something out towards him. When he looked at the object, he recognized a U. S. Marshal badge. Confused he looked up at Jess.

"Trent happened to ride by when I was trying to figure out what to do. He offered me a job helping stop the cattle rustling going on in New Mexico. I turned him down at first, intent on tracking you. Turns out, that's where your trail was leading, so I contacted him and said I'd do it. McDougal's been stealing cattle and trying to take over land for a long time. He needed to be stopped, but no one could get close to him. It didn't take much for him to hire me into his squad of goons. Guess I ain't as clean as I been making out all these years. Anyway, the Marshals were supposed to stop the fight before it got started that day. Only they didn't get the message on time and the fighting had already started. All we could do was clean up the mess afterwards."

Slim didn't know what to say, merely handing the badge back to Jess. They continued to ride along until Jess drew his horse to a halt. Slim didn't like the look on Jess' face when he spoke.

"There's another thing, Slim. I gotta take you in. There's paper on you over the bank accounts and the ranch. I have to take you back and deliver you to Mort."

"You taking me in as a Marshall or a bounty hunter?" Slim asked, anger showing in his whole body.

"Take your pick. End result is the same – you're going back to Laramie. My name was on them accounts and papers too, don't you forget. I done settled up with the bank and I'm in the clear. But they still want you."

"What if I don't want to go?"

Jess fixed Slim with a cold stare. "You're going." He answered, kneeing his horse into a walk again.

Slim sat silently for a few moments, seriously considering a cut and run escape. But he knew he'd have to hurt Jess in order to do it – and he just couldn't do that. He also knew Jess would do his sworn duty, no matter what it required. He decided he didn't care for either one of them to be shot or killed. Jess was right. There had been enough killing. He knew he'd had enough for a lifetime. He wondered what the charges against him would be. Jess hadn't said and didn't expound upon the statement. He'd only said there was paper out on him. That meant his punishment could be anything from a slap on the wrist to a lifetime of imprisonment. He hadn't done anything worth being hung for – at least he didn't think he'd done anything to warrant that kind of punishment.

Jess pushed them both hard. He intended to shorten the two-week ride to the bare minimum number of days. He ate little and spoke less. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence between them – just silence – and it ate at Slim. No matter what Slim would start to say, Jess would suddenly change gaits, ending all conversation. Jess didn't ride beside him as he used to do. Then again, with Jess either in front or in back of him, it contributed to being unable to talk things out. Obviously, they would settle their differences when and where Jess decided.

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Slim glanced at Jess across the campfire. For most of the trip he'd tried getting Jess to open up, tell him what he needed to do to make things right – if they could ever be right again. But Jess would always walk away or turn over and go to sleep – or at least pretend to go to sleep. Slim knew Jess wasn't sleeping well. Then again, Jess always said he slept with one eye open when on the owl hoot trail. He could hear Jess walking around in the middle of the night. He could feel Jess' agitation grow the closer they got to Laramie.

Slim's nerves were fraying. The endless days of silence had given him plenty of time to review his actions. He knew he'd been wrong to leave like he did, but he couldn't change that. He knew he had let everyone down, and he couldn't change that either. He was still lost. He wondered how Jess had done it – leaving his own home at only 15 and making his way with nothing but shear willpower. Slim realized Jess had something he lacked – but he couldn't put a word to it. Slim's life hadn't always been easy, but he'd always felt the love and support of his family. When his parents had died, he still had Jonesy. Their guidance had set him on the path to responsibility – especially when it came to his younger brother, Andy. He'd raised Andy and made sure he went back east for a higher education. Slim had had set backs in his life but never failure – and that was what was eating him now. Losing the ranch had been a complete failure for him and he had no idea how to cope. It is why he had left everything behind. But the specter of failure still haunted him as he was slowly dragged back to face the consequences of his actions.

Slim looked at Jess again. He still didn't know everything about Jess' life, but he knew it hadn't been easy for him. As Slim thought about what he knew of Jess' life, he realized how everyone had betrayed or otherwise let the man down. What he didn't know, was how Jess had survived with the kindness and good heart he had. Sure, Jess could be quick to anger and was fast on the draw. But he carried a deep- seated sense of right and wrong. It wasn't necessarily legal or not legal – just right and wrong – and he stood by his convictions – sometimes, frighteningly so. Slim wondered how strong his own convictions were. He'd betrayed Jess just like everyone else in his life. It was something he needed to think about.

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

They were only one-day's ride away from Laramie when Jess detoured to a nearby town, declaring they were getting rooms for the night. For almost two weeks he had driven them in a straight line for Laramie and now he was suddenly changing directions. Jess had secured rooms for them, saying he needed a bath and a good night's sleep before he delivered Slim and then started his new job. He'd sent a telegram to his boss, letting him know he'd arrive the next day, and received a conformational telegram in return. At least Slim assumed it was a confirmation of Jess' new job – or maybe it was really the Sheriff confirming his expected delivery into the hands of the law. Whichever it was, Slim knew his spirits couldn't get much lower. Jess had never expounded upon what the charges would be. Slim assumed the worst and feared he faced imprisonment for many years, if not for the rest of his life.

After a bath and supper, Jess escorted Slim back to their rooms. He missed the friendship which had once existed between them. The man beside him was a stranger – a Marshal doing his duty. Slim had watched Jess down a hearty meal, while his own had stuck in his craw. As he sat on the chair in Jess' room, he knew this was it. Jess was going to let him know where they stood. Jess' silence over the past days had played havoc with his nerves, contributing greatly to the knot in his gut, and he was glad it was almost over. Whatever happened here and now, it was the end – the end of their partnership, the end of their friendship, and the end of their building the ranch together. Tomorrow Jess would deliver him to the sheriff and ride away, taking Mike with him. Slim knew he had no ground to stand on, he'd abandoned everyone and everything. With a jail sentence hanging over his head, he no longer even had a right to be Mike's guardian. He didn't know which saddened him more – losing Jess' friendship or losing Mike. It hurt. It hurt right to his very core.

Jess was emotionless, his voice neutral, as he spoke.

"We'll hit Laramie tomorrow. We have to swing by what's left of the ranch to meet Mr. Stevens and Mort. They wanted to do the transfer out there, away from town, let you know the way things are. Mort'll take custody of you there. After that, I'm on to my next job."

That was it. That was all Jess was willing or able to divulge. It did nothing to ease the queasiness in Slim's gut. Was that all to the threatened settling up they had to do? He supposed Jess got what he wanted – justice – by handing Slim over to the law and riding away with Mike. Jess always did have a different way of settling the score when he felt he'd been wronged. He guessed he should feel lucky Jess hadn't set out to kill him. But that was the old Jess – wasn't it? Jess had been working for the Marshals – had had to act the way he did during the range war. Maybe he was wrong and Jess hadn't reverted to his gunslinger ways. He could only hope that was the case.

Why had they picked the ranch for his transfer? Didn't they know that was like pouring salt in an open wound? He'd left that place behind him, a faded memory of what could have been. Dejectedly, Slim stood, walked across the room, letting himself into his own room through the connecting door, silently closing it behind him. Jess watched, sorry he was unable to ease the big man's suffering.

It was Jess not Slim, who had nightmares that night. It wasn't long before Slim could hear him through the closed door separating them. Slim lay there, hesitating to go to Jess' side as had been his habit when they were home. He listened as Jess fought some unseen nighttime terror. Slim knew the signs; knew Jess would be breaking out in a cold sweat, rolling back and forth, fighting his own demons. He also knew Jess' outcries would wake the entire hotel if he weren't calmed or awoken. He'd seen Jess gripped in the throes of those nightmares many times over the years. He couldn't remember the last time Jess had had one this bad, so he knew something was eating his former partner.

Making a decision, Slim entered Jess' room. As expected, Jess had slipped into what Slim called 'stage two' of his nightmares. Even though he had kicked off his covers, Jess was drenched in sweat as he writhed in pain, fighting an unknown enemy. Slim knew he had to do something before Jess reached what he called 'stage three'. In stage three, Jess was dangerous to himself and to anyone he may encounter. It was probably the only time Jess didn't have control of his senses and himself. He had been known to shoot indiscriminately when trapped inside the nightmares at that stage.

Slim knew he could bring Jess back from stage two, could calm Jess, talk him down from his fight or flight responses. It wouldn't be easy. It never was easy. Jess' already formidable strength seemed to double during the nightmares – and he was already slipping into stage three. Slim knew he had to get to Jess before Jess got too far into stage three and got to his gun. If Jess got to his gun, all bets were off as to what would happen. Moving into action, Slim grabbed onto Jess' wrists just as he was reaching for his gun. Now fully gripped in the throes of his nightmare, Jess fought Slim, thinking he was the assailant. Someone was pounding on Jess' door, demanding to know what was going on – to stop creating such a disturbance, combined with threats of being thrown out of the hotel.

Slim struggled to control Jess, his voice finally getting through to the man and he calmed. Slim answered the voice on the other side of the door, promising there was nothing going on and it was now over. It seemed to satisfy the clerk as there was silence from there on. Slim loosened his grip on Jess as he slipped back into normal sleep. Jess would remember nothing come morning. He never remembered the nightmares and Slim was glad of that. He'd never told Jess how he calmed him, letting him slip back into natural sleep. He worried over who would take care of Jess while he was in jail. Then he remembered it wouldn't matter. Jess would be going his own way after tomorrow. Their friendship and partnership was over. Jess would have to fight his demons alone from now on. Slim pulled the covers up over the sleeping Jess and sadly returned to his bed in the other room.

But Slim couldn't fall back asleep. Too much was running through his mind. Leaning against the window frame, he watched the early morning sun chase away the gray shadows in the town below him. It occurred to him that this was his last day of freedom. Tonight, he would be in the Laramie jail where he'd await a hearing or a trial, depending upon what charges were brought against him. His mind went back to the time he'd spent on the work chain gang and he shuddered. It was definitely an experience he didn't care to repeat. He had just finished rolling his bedroll when Jess knocked and entered through the connecting door. He merely nodded in the affirmative when Jess asked if he was ready to ride. He couldn't help noticing Jess was wearing his Marshal's badge. He hadn't worn it the whole trip. It was another stark reminder that their journey was coming to an end. Slim was not riding with his friend; he was riding as a prisoner, facing an unknown future.

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Once again, they rode along in silence. They'd been on the road for hours and were only a short ways from the ranch when Jess pulled up, stating they should take a break. He told Slim to climb down and walk around, get his thoughts together before they crested the ridge and rode down to the ranch. Jess rode away from Slim, disappearing for a few moments over the ridge, before coming back.

Slim was glad of the chance to gain control of himself, to face what was about to happen. He wanted to be in full control of himself when he had to face Mr. Stevens and Mort. He would face whatever was to happen face on, no skittering around the edges for him. All too soon, Jess said it was time to move on.

"This is it." Thought Slim, "This is where he has to handcuff me to keep it official." Slim knew Jess had broken quite a few "rules" on their journey home. For one thing, Jess had never disarmed him as well as, leaving him loose to do as he pleased, trusting him not to run away or shoot him. Thing was – he couldn't betray that trust – no matter how much he longed to avoid what lay over the top of that ridge.

"You gonna cuff me?" Slim asked, holding out his wrists for the expected fettering. Jess looked him up and down before shrugging his shoulders and saying "Naw – we come this far, I reckon we can go a few more yards the same way as we came – together."

Jess pulled his hat down over his forehead as they both settled onto their horses and moved forward. Jess suggested Slim take a good look over the ranch because his view was going to be a whole lot different from now on out. Slim agreed; drinking in the sight of the open country, knowing it could be the last time he saw the trees and green grass for a very long time. It also gave him an excuse to avoid looking down the lane. He didn't want to see the destroyed buildings at the end of their journey.

They were half way down the lane before Slim could bring himself to look at the buildings, unwilling to see what further damage had been done in the months he'd been gone. He almost fell off his horse at the sight before him.

A brand new barn stood in place of the old, burned one, its new coat of paint shimmering in the sun. The shower had been replaced and the house – oh the house! The house had been rebuilt and expanded. Slim stopped, unwilling to meet the people who now owned the property and had made the improvements. It was bad enough to have to meet Mort and Mr. Stevens here, but to be shamed by what someone else had been able to do to his former home hurt him deeply. Jess cantered on ahead and he had no recourse but to follow. Mort and Mr. Stevens met him as he stopped at the hitching rail. He could hear a woman's voice coming from inside the house. She was issuing instructions to someone he couldn't see. At least it is a family living here, he thought to himself as he stepped down from Alamo and joined the others on the expanded front porch. Slim couldn't help but appreciate the improvements and the carpentry. Whoever had done the work had done a magnificent job. He felt a pang of envy for the new residents. Jess stood beside him as he shook hands with Mort and Mr. Stevens. No one got a chance to say anything as a series of buggies and buckboards followed one another into the yard.

It was organized chaos as tables and chairs were set up. Tablecloths appeared, as did food and drink. Slim stood in confused wonder as the scene unfolded before him. He didn't know what to think as one after another, the townsfolk and his neighbors shook his hand, clapped him on the back, and welcomed him home. "Didn't they know?" He thought to himself. "Didn't they know he'd left everything in ruins; abandoned his home? Didn't they know someone else owned the land now? Didn't they know he was about to be arrested?"

Slim looked from Jess to Mort before quietly asking Mort to get on with it, get him away from the ranch because he couldn't take seeing someone else living there. Mr. Stevens overhead and stepped forward, a paper in his hand. Slim's eyes widened. This was it. He was about to hear the charges against him. In spite of his resolve, he trembled slightly.

"Well, now," stated Mr. Stevens as he opened the document in his hand. "Let's just see who owns this land." He paused a moment, reading over the paper. "Hmmm. Seems this land belongs to one Mathew Sherman Jr. a/k/a Slim Sherman and Jess, no middle name, Harper."

"What!" Exclaimed Slim as he grabbed the paper from Mr. Stevens. He read it, unbelieving what he read. Bewildered, he could only look back and forth between Jess, Mort, and Mr. Stevens. "How?" he finally got out. Mr. Stevens was grinning ear to ear.

"You can thank your partner there." He said pointing to Jess. "It was all his idea. He did most of the work, but the town helped a whole lot too."

"But, but I missed paying the mortgage payment. I lost the ranch to the bank." Continued the surprised Slim.

"No, you didn't, son." Returned the banker. "Jess here made it back with plenty of money to cover everything that was in arrears. That – and a hair brained scheme to raise enough money to do the repairs."

Slim was staring at an embarrassed Jess, too surprised to ask the question burning within him.

"Aw, heck." Began Jess. "Those cattle I sold off raised more than enough to pay the mortgage. And, well, there was this bunch of mustangs I ran across on the way back. I rounded them up and corralled them. Seems there was a broker looking for some horses and he didn't care if they was broke or not – so I sold the mustangs to him. That paid for the lumber to rebuild. When folks found out I was rebuilding, they came out and helped. The whole town pitched in. That's why I didn't go after you right away. I had to make sure things would be taken care of here.

Mr. Steven's hand was on Slim's shoulder now. "You should have come to me, son. We would have worked something out."

"But, the notices – they said the time was up – the bank wanted full payment." Stammered Slim

Mr. Stevens snorted. "Slim, that was just the bank doing what the offices back east tell us got to be done. But out here, we know the real score. We know that ranchers have to wait for cattle to be sold. We know who has banked with us for years and whose word is as good as their money. Like I said, Slim, you should have come to me. I could have set your mind at ease."

Slim walked away, shaking his head. He stopped by the new corral fence, overwhelmed by everything that had happened. He rested his forehead on his arms crossed on the top rail. He fought to control the emotions sweeping through him. Footsteps stopped beside him and he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder.

"You gonna be okay, Pard?" Jess asked kindly.

When Slim straightened, his eyes shone with unshed tears. "Why?" he asked bewildered. "Why did you do all of this?" he whispered, his arm sweeping to encompass the yard and new buildings.

Jess smiled his crooked smile – the one that showed the gap in his teeth. "Because it's our home, Slim - yours, mine, and Mike's. I ain't going no wheres. You and me – we've put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into this place. I ain't had no home since I was fifteen years old – not until I landed here, and you took me in. You gave me a home, Slim, and I wasn't about to let go of it. Like I told you before – those damn stakes went deep when they finally took root. It's the least I could do for all you done for me over the years. This is home; our home."

"But . . .but all of that back with Marlin and McDougal – making me pay?"

"Oh, that was real, Slim. Make no mistake about that. I came after you, that's for sure, and I was working for the Marshals while I done it. I said I came to settle up – well I did – I settled up for everything you've ever given me. You'll have to pay all right, pay with a lifetime of running this ranch. It ain't nothin' if you ain't here."

"But you said you had to bring me back; that there was paper on me."

Jess shrugged. "I had a job to do – bring you back. And there was paper on you – the mortgage paid up with your name still on it." He shrugged again. "Can't help it if you felt guilty and thought your own thoughts."

"Which you made no effort to correct!" laughed Slim before he grew serious. "But what about your new job? You start tomorrow."

Jess nodded solemnly. "Ya, that's true. But I figure my partner and I can take a day off, recuperate from that ride home, before I head out to check fences and make sure the cows are where they belong. It'll wait another day." Slim finally caught on to what Jess was saying and grinned broadly. His day, and his life, was turning out splendidly.

Before either man could say anything more, they were called to come share the meal welcoming Slim back home.

Jess and Slim strode across the yard side-by-side, stride for stride. There would be a time and place to let Mike know of the changes to the ranch – but not today. Today, Jess and Slim were together again, partners, as they were meant to be, as they joined the assembled crowd. They were treated to numerous speeches extolling the camaraderie which had brought everyone together to rebuild the ranch.

They were back home where they belonged.

THE END


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